


Just a Little Heartache

by stharridan



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:49:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stharridan/pseuds/stharridan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retsu finally realizes why she hates the Eleventh Division so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Little Heartache

The early morning sunlight found Retsu sitting at a desk, eyes trained to an incomplete document that should have been signed by her lieutenant the night before. She gave it a quick look-through, as per usual in the dealings with petty paperwork, and slipped it into a rack after a swift flick of her brush. She reached for her tea cup and raised it to her lips, but before she could even take a sip, the sounds of uncouth shouting and colourful phrases filled the once peaceful silence.

Retsu didn't bother to look out the window to confirm her suspicions, for it was already known throughout the Seireitei that, if one were to hear that sort of boisterous – and rather childish – banter, one was undoubtedly near the presence of a group of Eleventh Division members.

Sure enough, they raced through the streets, zanpakuto waving about despite the obvious fact that there weren't any Hollows around. The group consisting of four people, with a buff man sporting an olive complexion as its head, stopped right below Retsu's window. They knew which window was whose through practice, thanks to their captain who often had to have his needs tended to.

And the captain always got what he wanted.

"Captain Ukitake, ye in there?" the leader called, voice rough from a lifetime of cursing.

Retsu looked over the lid of her teacup at her former classmate who sat just across the desk from her. Flashing a sheepish grin at her, Jushiro rose to his feet and went over to the windowsill where he gave them a jovial wave good morning.

"Yes, may I be of assistance?" he teased lightly, though Retsu was pretty sure that he knew what was to come in the next second. Sure enough, when the man below mentioned a certain captain, Jushiro didn't even seem the slightest bit surprised. He mock-saluted and, after asking them about breakfast and wishing them a safe walk home – not like they had the tiniest shred of knowledge regarding words of safety and precaution – Jushiro returned to his seat and took a sip of tea.

Retsu didn't have to ask as to what brought them here in the first place – she knew far too well. The expression on Jushiro's face, one that radiated anticipation and excitement, as well as that small grin of glee he didn't have on just seconds before, was further proof of what lay ahead of him.

Of course, Retsu never quite liked to pry into others' personal business, especially that of her friends. She wasn't the type to tell a person how to lead their life, preferring to stand and watch on the sidelines, offering advice whenever they needed it or a helping hand in trying times.

But, though Jushiro had never asked, she found herself wanting to persuade the man _not_ to attend to that business he now had in line at the Eleventh Division. It wasn't advice that she wanted to give him though – it was a load of protests.

Gods knew how much she loathed the Eleventh – them and their uncouth, dirty mouths, bloodlust and the ridiculous need to slaughter any and every enemy that stepped in their way – and it was a known fact that a barrier existed between that division and hers. A wall of rock that no zanpakuto could slice through – except maybe Yamamoto's, but that was out of the question.

She wasn't afraid of them, no. Why should she fear them? _They_ were the ones who actually feared _her_ , by all the gods, and though she never really knew why, she always kept to herself, ignoring their antics and habits that grate on her nerves.

Retsu would no doubt file a complaint to the Captain-Commander for every time an Eleventh Division member harassed her underlings, destroyed parts of her own division whenever they were supposed to be resting in bed, swore like a salty sailor right in front of parents and their children, but the only thing that refrained her from taking that step was none other than her former classmate, Jushiro. Seeing him in such a state, withered and alone, tortured by his cursed illness, was painful enough for her.

Leading a life almost akin to that of a hermit, Jushiro had long given up on finding that one person he'd truly be happy with, suggesting that there weren't many women of his taste, and even if there were, they were most probably taken anyway. Retsu appreciated how Shunsui always found the time to introduce him to his female friends – those he hadn't touch, of course, which only made up a handful – but Jushiro, much to her irritation, turned them down.

But each time Shunsui brought him out, Retsu, in the deepest, darkest corner of her heart, would pray that he'd turn those women down. She knew she shouldn't be doing it, should pray for her friend's happiness instead, but each time she tried it, she found that feat impossible to achieve. There was always that pinch, that little prick that pierced her heart. It used to be unfamiliar, but during those long, long years of her lifetime, she grew accustomed to it.

And whenever Jushiro rejected those women Retsu deemed unworthy of his attention, her heart would overflow with relief, with hope that someday, maybe, he would finally turn to her and come to a long-awaited realization.

But the years went on without any signs of Jushiro wanting her, of having interest, if any, in her, and she was left to dwell within her hospital, looking forward to the weekends when he would have to visit her for a check-up.

And when Jushiro finally found that one person, the one who made him happy, Retsu could only give herself a mental slap and curse the gods for giving way to such a decision. How he even arrived at it was beyond Retsu, for she couldn't see anything remotely attractive or good about the division who cared not for its health, members who didn't give a damn about their lives.

But despite how much Retsu wanted to just take Jushiro and shake him, to slap some sense back into him, she controlled herself. It was difficult considering how painful it was to watch during those captains' meetings, to notice the small gap between them, to see how Jushiro's face would light up whenever he looked at the man. His gentle eyes, orbs as green as the ocean wherein Retsu would love to drown herself, would brighten, sometimes even grow wide, at the slightest glimpse of him.

Even now, as she stared at him across the table, as she recorded his heartbeat, she noticed the evident quickening in his pulse. Ignoring it, she took a small container of his usual pills and handed it over to him.

"I thank you for your time, Retsu," he said, rising to his feet before she had the chance to give him instructions or inform him of the state of his health. It was just as well though, since he already knew the basics of his medication. As for his health, well, it was noticeably improving, and Retsu suspected that it was courtesy of his sessions with the Eleventh's captain.

Jushiro pocketed the container and gave her a polite nod as thanks, casting a grateful smile at her that turned her insides upside down.

"Next Saturday, then?"

Retsu nodded, delicate hands folding over one another. "I shall see you next Saturday, Jushiro. Till then, take care."

And, as Jushiro turned his back on her and walked out the door, Retsu let a smile, relieved at his advance in health yet pained at his departure, grace her features. That all-too-familiar ache started within her, piercing her weathered heart. She went over to the window and, as she watched Jushiro quicken his pace with an eager smile in place, she finally realized why she hated the Eleventh Division so much.


End file.
